


Idle Hands and Lazy Days

by betweenthebliss



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Shore Leave, under 1000 words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenthebliss/pseuds/betweenthebliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>my secret love for this pairing is no longer such a secret. XD a pair of drabbles for baenigma that i decided were in the same 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idle Hands and Lazy Days

It isn't as if McCoy doesn't have willpower, or self-control, or a sense of decency in not letting himself be seduced by barely-legal physics prodigies. He has all of those things in spades; it's just that Pavel doesn't goddamn _listen_ when McCoy tells him things like "I'm twice your age" or "We could get in serious trouble" or "There are security cameras in all the turbo lifts could you please at least wait until we're in private?"

He knows it makes him a dirty old man and sometimes he wonders what the hell he's doing, if he thinks Pavel's actually going to stick around or if he's fooling himself that this is anything other than idle amusement for either of them. It's been so long since McCoy let himself fall for someone, he's not even sure he'd know what the hell it felt like.

What he does know is that young or not, Pavel knows what he wants (or what he thinks he wants) and isn't afraid to go after it-- he's like Jim that way, McCoy thinks, once his goal's in sight he's not backing down til he's grabbed it with both hands. And the kicker is, he's nothing at all like McCoy expected. He realizes pretty quickly that everything he thought about the kid was wrong-- he's not naive, not ignorant of the awkwardness, but he's no boy Lolita either-- he doesn't tease, doesn't scheme the way Jim would to get McCoy where he wants him. He's mature, startlingly so, and approaches McCoy with all the directness and focus he'd give to a tricky equation.

"I want you," he says, "I like you. And unless you are very good at hiding how you feel, I think you like me at least a little too." Well, McCoy's not a moron, he knows he's crap at hiding how he feels. He just doesn't know what he feels now, or what's going to happen to them now that he's admitted it.

He's starting to think maybe he won't mind so much finding out as they go along, though, and that's something he never expected to feel either.

\---

It's such a novel feeling, waking up to sunlight on his skin, that for a second McCoy doesn't even know he's awake. He thinks he's still dreaming, and it's a nice feeling, one he doesn't get nearly enough of; lounging in bed in the morning is less of an option for someone who's usually so exhausted he sleeps like the dead until half an hour before his shift starts.

He turns over with a sleepy grumble, shoving his face further into the pillow. He starts to remember they're on shore leave, and he's actually not dreaming because he doesn't have to get out of bed at all today if he damn well doesn't want to. He might not; he might just stay in bed all damn day. It's the kind of hedonism Jim would approve of, he thinks, rolling back toward the sun with a grin starting on his face.

The smile's still there when he opens his eyes to find a pair of blue ones looking back at him. "Good morning," Pavel says with a lazy smile of his own. He looks like he's still half asleep too; his eyes fall shut again as McCoy watches, and he burrows under the blanket again, one hand reaching out to cover McCoy's where it lies curled between them.

"I fell asleep," McCoy mumbles unintelligibly, remembering; it had been sort of a blur, and he'd meant to go to his own room (he had one, dammit, a hotel room all to himself where all his stuff is-- which means, he realizes with faint horror, he'll be walking back down the hall either in a robe or the same clothes he was wearing last night, and thank God Jim's already left for Iowa) but there'd been dinner and drinking and sex and afterward-- he remembers this clearly now-- he'd flopped back against the pillows mumbling, "Wake me up if I pass out, okay?"

His hand had still been tangled in Pavel's hair, and the kid had agreed, which McCoy expected. They're both pretty jealous of their personal space, and neither of them is ready for people to know about this yet-- except for Jim, who knows everything about McCoy there is to know, and probably Sulu on Pavel's side-- but it makes for efficient exits most of the time.

This is the first time McCoy has woken up to his careless sprawl, the soft curve of his spine and warmth of his skin. He's gorgeous, bathed in sunlight and still clinging to sleep, murmuring only a faint protest as McCoy wraps his other hand around the kid's hip, pulling him over to his side of the bed.

"Morning," he murmurs in Pavel's ear, his chin tucking against the kid's neck, one arm slung across his chest. They could fuck like this, and probably will once they're both awake; for now McCoy's just reveling in the feeling of Pavel in his arms, both of them in a real bed, and nothing to do all day except more of the same.

He falls back asleep grinning.


End file.
